Picking Pairings out of a Pocket
by Luna del Cielo
Summary: What happens when you put names from 18 different worlds into a pocket & pick out pairings? While also putting your I Tunes on Shuffle and choosing a song to go with each pairing? Well… It's an adventure! MULTIPLE CROSSINGS
1. Story Notes

**Picking Pairings out of a Pocket**

**Summary**: What happens when you put names from 17 different worlds into a pocket & pick out pairings? While also putting your I Tunes on Shuffle and choosing a song to go with each pairing? Well… It's an adventure!

**Rules:** I put 66 names in a pocket (Okay, so they weren't really put into a pocket but a pocket folder & I do love alliteration for my story titles!) and picked out all the pairings. I will attempt to do them all and the theme for that drabble will depend on whatever song plays on my I Tunes Shuffle at the time! Considering I have 2,450 songs from every genre, it should be fun ;D

**Disclaimer**: I do not own the Rights to any of these TV shows or movies. They belong to their respective creators and studios. Please don't sue… I'm already in student loan debt! :)

**Shows/Movies/Books:**

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Supernatural

Harry Potter

Boondock Saints

Underworld

Xena

Southern Vampire Mysteries/True Blood

Lord of the Rings

X-Men

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Law & Order: SVU

Twilight

Star Wars

Venture Brothers

Pirates of the Caribbean

Anita Blake

Gilmore Girls

**Pairings:**

Wesley/Haldir

Angel/Lucius

Aragorn/Jack Sparrow

Edward/Sam

Luna/Dean

Spike/Sherlock Holmes

Lando Calrission/Brock Samson

Sookie/Angel

Buffy/Marcus Flint

Rory/Dru

Aang/Benson

Lorelei/Stabler

Munch/Legolas

Hermione/Pansy

Queen Sophie-Anne/Ice-T

Dawn/Bill

Wolverine/Neville

Bella/Snape

Xander/Eric

Sirius/Ginny

Anita Blake/Draco

Narcissa/Connor McManus

Zuko/Ron

Harry/Alice

Xena/Rogue

Selene/Storm

Lorne/Theo Nott

Asher/Han Solo

Katara/Watson

Giles/Remus

Jacob/Murphy McManus

McGonagall/Leia

Bellatrix/Gambit


	2. Rogue Demon Hunters: WesleyHaldir

**A/N:**

**Pairing:** Wesley Wyndam-Pryce (BTVS)/ Haldir (Lord of the Rings)

**Shuffle Song: **Ricky Martin 'I Am Made of You', Album: Ricky Martin (1999) (it's a love song)

**Disclaimer**: Don't own 'em, just playing with them (mmmm, they *would* be fun to play with… ;)

It was a dark night. A night darker than the norm. But Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had seen his share of darkness. He knew her bittersweet taste as she held him in her cold arms of comfort night after night.

Yes, a Rogue Demon Hunter knew the endless refrain of darkness for he had to battle it each day of his Spartan existence. Luckily for the people of this small Nevada town Wesley had taken refuge here for the night; desiring nothing but to succumb to sleep after hours of traveling on his hog.

But alas, in the small bed and breakfast he was staying at, he had heard that trouble was afoot here. A strange bright light had been seen that early evening and no one knew the cause of it. Believing it to be something involved with a demonic ritual clan, Wesley had set out with his weapons strapped to his body and his leather jacket on his back.

There! He heard a noise in the alley to the right!

Spying over the side of the slick rain-covered wall, Wesley spotted a tall, lonely figure with thick, waist-length white-blond hair that swung with each step. A silver dress that reached her upper thighs shimmered in the light from the streetlight and silver leggings ended in heelless boots. For a moment Wesley was breathless; never before had he seen such gorgeous hair – he had always been a sucker for women with long hair.

That, of course, explained the Cordelia Incident.

Quietly, Wesley began following her. For, who knows what trouble might befall an innocent young woman on this darkest of nights? It was only proper that he watch out for her of course!

And perhaps, he had to admit, take a moment to observe the fine roundness of her bottom.

He began to wonder if maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to join him for a nightcap at the bar across from his inn. After all, his months of travel after leaving Sunnydale had been rather lonely.

Alas, he supposed that was the lifestyle of a Rogue Demon Hunter.

So immersed in his thoughts of what such an evening with this fine specimen might entail, Wesley never even noticed the woman moving – so quickly it was also supernatural- and grab him by the throat.

"Speak mortal! What is your name and why do you follow me? " questioned a severe, yet smooth, baritone voice.

"Uh," Wesley gulped. His 'young lady' was not a lady at all! Although the hair and clothes begged to differ… and wait, were those pointed ears?

"I am Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and I thought you seemed lost. I am a Rogue Demon Hunter and it is my duty to patrol the streets each night. Who are you?" he asked in a more confident voice than he felt. The way this man's – creatures? – eyes were narrowed at him… Well, suffice it to say Wesley felt a trickle of fear.

The face relaxed and the man dropped his hand. Wesley rubbed the spot tenderly before quickly pulling away – after all, he must not show any weakness! He was a Rogue Demon Hunter, after all!

"I am Haldir of Lothlorien. I am indeed lost. A brilliant light overtook me during the Battle at Helm's Deep as I lay in a pool of my own blood. Where am I?" he asked.

"South Dakota… Where is Helm's Deep?" Wesley asked, feeling a bit of his old love of research emerge.

"In the land of Rohan, east of my Lady's Woods and west of the White City. Where is… South Dakota?" Haldir asked with furrowed eyebrows.

"In the United States." When that mention got no response, Wesley gasped as the idea struck him. "Of course! Inter-dimensional travel, I assume. Well, I may be able to help you find your way back. My contacts in the Mother Country may have some helpful texts."

"And if you cannot?" Haldir asked warily.

Wesley pursed his lips as he examined the man's tall frame and, now that he saw the front of him, his extensive set of muscles.

"Have you ever thought of becoming a Rogue Demon Hunter?"

A/N:

I know, it was a love song but I just couldn't do slashy-ness with these two! And then I thought 'How badass would Haldir be as a Rogue Demon Hunter'

Oh, and I went with the movie version – with Haldir dying and all.

Comments? Suggestions on my other upcoming pairings?

Thanks for reading!


	3. Save Me: AngelLucius

"**Save Me" Angel/Lucius**

A/N:

**Pairing**: Angel (BTVS)/ Lucius Malfoy (Harry Potter)

**Shuffle** **Song**: "Save Me" by Jem featured on their album 'Finally Woken' & the 'Grey's Anatomy' soundtrack

**Disclaimer**: Don't own 'em, just playing with them (mmmm, they *would* be fun to play with… ;)

He was on a mission.

Years ago his friend – if one could call him that – had helped him when no one else was left standing by his side. They hadn't known each other at the time; strangers at a dinner party. But he saw the desperation in his eyes as his son was about to be murdered while he was helpless to do anything.

And he helped.

Maybe he helped because he felt it the right thing to do or maybe just because he hated Voldemort. However, he had never asked the man and never intended on doing so. All that had mattered was that his son was saved and their lives could be peaceful again – something he had craved more at this stage in his life than anything else.

For a while the man stayed with them as he contemplated his next steps and over time trust had formed between them as they discussed their families, the supernatural world, history, literature, and music – Indeed Barry Manilow had turned out to be a common interest for both of them.

Eventually the day came when they parted… but before that happened a promise was sworn between the two that if the darkness took either of them over then appropriate measures would be taken to remedy that.

Now rumors had emerged that his friend had indeed changed for the worse so with a heavy heart he toured the darkest alleys for his friend. However, it turned out that he needn't have looked far because his friend was found in a likely place, Knockturn Alley.

Idly, he wondered if his friend had known that he was coming and was taunting him.

Eyes sharp and his brain alert, he observed his friend whistling nonchalantly outside a potions ingredients shop. He didn't iseem/i different but changes such as his were unlikely to be announced through their appearances. Their actions, of course, were a much more likely indicator.

"Long time no see," his friend called in a dispassionate voice.

He cursed silently for being discovered so quickly.

"Indeed," he answered simply.

With a flash of movement, his friend stood before him and stared straight into his eyes. "What's up, Lucy-boy? Looking to sell some dark artifacts?"

"No," Lucius Malfoy replied calmly. "You know I ended that life years ago – back when you killed the Dark Lord."

Angel grinned in such a fashion that Lucius couldn't help the slight shiver that ran down his spine. "Oh yes, how is little Draco? And your lovely wife? I always thought she was particularly tasty looking," he smirked.

"They are quite well… And you will not touch them, Angel," he replied sternly.

"Angel," he groaned and rolled his eyes. "God, that guy was such a wanker! Such a moaner and a groaner. I tell ya, it feels so good to be let out," he grinned roguishly.

Lucius' head turned slightly to the side as he examined his old friend. "And just how did that happen?"

Angel – or rather, Angelus – chuckled darkly. "What else? Boy Wonder hung himself out to dry like a naïve idiot. Big bad hell spawn threatened to destroy the world and seemed likely to do it, but Angel," his voice dropped to sound sickenly sweet sound, "offered anything."

"Anything?" Lucius asked skeptically as a lead ball dropped into his stomach. Inside his robe he fingered his wand carefully.

"Demon wanted his soul. Angel agreed because his little friends were right there, and hey! They were a little too confident that they could bring back the soul with no problem!" Angelus laughed wildly.

"But guess what? Demon ate it. It's gone – forever. But me? I'm here to stay, Lucy-boy!" Angelus' face sprung into 'vamp face' and his yellow eyes fixed upon Lucius.

"You know, I always wondered how wizard blood tasted. Never had a chance to taste it before." Angelus grunted as he picked up Lucius and threw him against a wall. Like lightning, Lucius' wand was out but Angelus snapped it easily beneath his feet.

"Aw, now, that hurts my feelings Lucy!" he sneered. "And here I thought we were friends!"

"I am i _Angel's_/i friend, not yours, demon! Long ago I made a promise and I swear I will save him," Lucius spat vehemently as he clutched his bruised ribs.

Angelus laughed maniacally and hauled Lucius up to his feet. "That's real cute, Luce. Too bad your wand is broken. How, oh how, will you ever save me now?" he asked in a patronizing voice.

Lucius licked his lips as he concentrated. "Been practicing on my nonverbal spells," he grunted.

"Huh?" Angelus asked with a drawn eyebrow.

A second later the broken half of his wand was thrust through the front of Angelus' chest. The vampire looked down in alarm and then snarled at Lucius before sprinkling away into a cloud of dust.

Falling to the ground once Angelus' hold on him ended, Lucius looked down in remorse at the remaining pieces of his friend. Long ago when Angel had promised Lucius to stop him if his addiction and love of dark magic took him over again and Lucius had promised Angel that he would stake him if the vampire became a danger again, well… Lucius had never imagined that either of them would need to keep that promise.

With a frustrated sigh, Lucius set off for home. Draco and Astoria were bringing over the grandchildren today and if he rushed he should be able to make it in time.

And then, after dinner, he contemplated bringing Draco into his study for a brief meeting… To see if his son the Auror would like to go hunt for this soul eating demon that Angel met.

Because no matter what, it was widely known that you did _inot/i_ mess with the friend of a Malfoy.

A/N:

"Save Me" just seemed like such an interesting song for this pairing and it took me a while to figure out who would be 'saved'. However, even though I love Angel I thought it would be fun to kill him – and different too.

Thoughts?

Thanks!


	4. Drunk Girls, Drunk Boys AragornJack S

"**Drunk Girls, Drunk Boys" Aragorn/Jack Sparrow**

A/N:

**Pairing**: Captain Jack Sparrow (Pirates of the Carribean)/ Aragorn son of Arathorn (Lord of the Rings)

**Shuffle** **Song**: "Drunk Girls" by LCD Soundsystem; album is 'Sound of Silve' I *think*. They're Indie, got it from my emo teenage brother ;)

**Disclaimer**: Don't own 'em, just playing with them (mmmm, they *would* be fun to play with… ;) This takes place in The Two Towers after the battle of Helm's Deep & JRR Tolkien owns those folks and the story. Jerry Bruckheimer or Disney or whoever owns Capt Jack and the Black Pearl

"Well, your friend the dwarf was correct – thish is most excellent mead!" Captain Jack Sparrow exclaimed as he tapped his glass against Aragorn's. "To Rohan Mead and," he said as his eye caught the slim figure of the lovely Lady Eowyn, 'to the Rohan women!"

"Hear hear!" Aragorn cheered as he tapped his glass and took a swig. After days of battle at Helm's Deep, he certainly needed a drink right now. Tonight they were celebrating their victory in one of the halls of Théoden, King of Rohan. It was a victory many of them never thought to witness and – sadly- many were unable to witness it.

The tide of the battle turned when a mysterious black ship fell in front on the surging Uruk-Hai warriors. Of course the blood-thirsty orcs immediately attacked but they were quickly defeated by ghostly skeletal pirates that could not be killed. Victory was soon theirs and Aragorn invited the living members of the ship – a Captain Jack Sparrow, a Mr. William Turner, and a Ms. Elizabeth Swan – to celebrate with them

Captain Sparrow had immediately accepted and Aragorn was almost afraid they would run out of mead if the pirate continued drinking in this manner.

"Sho, tell me, Aragorn, fancy any women folk here?" Jack slurred. Although Aragorn was unable to tell if that was a result of his drinking or not – it seemed as if the pirate always slurred his words and had the most awkward sea legs Aragorn had even seen!

"I have a lady back home," Aragorn answered; the smile that always graced his face when he thought of Arwen appearing.

Jack raised a skeptical brow. "Right mate, most men do have ladies back home. But," he grinned toothily, "I was askin' ya if you fancied any ladies here Trust me, hootenannies like this are the best – can't beat a drunken lass."

Aragorn scowled at the moral-less pirate. "I assure you, my lady is more than enough. She has my heart until my last breath," he answered steadfastly.

Jack tossed back his head and finished another glass of mead. "Well, pity that. But, 'spose that just means more for me!" With a loud laugh he slapped the rear end of the closest woman.

And Aragorn's breath caught in his throat.

Lady Eowyn, niece of King Théoden and Shield Maiden of the Rohirrim, turned to give Jack a deadly look. Eyes narrowed into slits she held her head up high and sneered at him. "Did you just slap me, pirate?"

Oblivious to his current danger, Jack just leaned in and leered at her. "Why yes, madam. I just wanted to let you know that you have a very pleasant looking rump and I couldn't refrain from touching it."

He clucked his tongue and lightly smacked his own hand. "Naughty hand," he chastised. "Control yourself better."

"Now," he waggled his eyebrows at an increasingly angry Eowyn. "How 'bouts you and I find a nice quiet place alone, luv?"

With a ferocious yell, Eowyn punched him across his face, kicked him in the privates, and threw him to the floor.

"How dare you touch me, pirate! You will be lucky to escape with your life tonight" she screeched at him, her light complexion reddening from exertion and anger.

Aragorn's hand went to his sword. Captain Sparrow had assisted them greatly today but such blatant harassment of the King's niece was unacceptable.

"I think you should leave," Aragorn stated to the pirate. "We appreciate your help but I do believe that your welcome has been worn out."

"Right then," Jack said breezily as he stood up. "Will! Elizabeth! Time to go!"

"Oh god, Jack. What on earth have you done now?" Elizabeth grumbled as she and Will approached hand-in-hand.

"Your friend slapped me across my behind," Eowyn hissed as she glared at Jack.

"What?" Elizabeth gasped in an appalled voice. "Dammit Jack! Here we are stuck in this strange land and you have to piss off the King's niece!"

"Oi, you're his niece? Hmm," Jack mused. "I assume you, madam, I can be the valor of discretion… or is it discretion the valor… er, regardless, I assure you we can have fun!" he grinned.

"Why you!" Eowyn yelled in a frustrated voice as she punched Jack in the face again.

"Way to be an idiot and get us kicked out, Jack!" yelled Elizabeth as she kicked him roughly in the leg.

Both ladies shared a smile and immediately left arm in arm to another section of the party.

"Oi, did you see that?" gasped Jack from his spot on the ground.

"Yes, I do believe two females subdued you," Aragorn stated wryly at the amusing pirate.

"Naw," he scoffed. "That's just foreplay – just you watch. They want me," he said confidently.

A/N:

Eh, maybe a lil less Aragorn/Jack with the appearance of the others, but the song just inspired me :)

Likey?

Thanks!


	5. Meet the Creeper Sam WinchesterEdward

"**Meet the Creeper" Sam W/Edward C**

A/N:

**Pairing**: Edward Cullen (Twilight)/Sam Winchester (Supernatural)

**Shuffle** **Song**: When I Tunes shuffled this to play I really couldn't believe it… LOL… It's hilarious: "Meet the Creeper" by Rob Zombie; album: "Hellbilly Deluxe

**Timeline:** For Twilight it is towards the end of New Moon. For Supernatural it really could be during any season *shrugs*

**Disclaimer**: Don't own 'em, just playing with them (mmmm, they **would** be fun to play with… ;)

Sam Winchester groaned in frustration as he had to complete a freaking virus scan on his freaking computer for the third time this month. Thanks to Dean's stupid porn, he was getting tons of pop-up ads. One of these days he was going to get his brother back, that was for sure.

Speaking of which, he wondered how much longer Dean was going to be. They had arrived in this small Texas town about an hour ago and his brother had left the motel to pick up the pizza. Although, knowing Dean, he probably got distracted by some girl.

Two sharp knocks at their room door interrupted Sam's computer work and he looked up warily at the door. Dean wouldn't knock and they weren't expecting visitors – so who could it be?

"I mean you no harm," said a satiny-smooth male voice; muffled through the door. "I was told that only you can help me. Please – please help me."

Skeptical of a strange man promised not to harm him yet needing his help, Sam grabbed a loaded shotgun from underneath the bed. "What's your name?" he called as he walked towards the door; making sure to approach it from the edge of the walls. That way, in case this man had a gun, Sam wouldn't get hit by anything shot directly through the door.

"My name is Edward Cullen."

Edward Cullen? Cullen, hmm, that sounded vaguely familiar. Sounds like something he heard in one of Bobby's stories.

"What kind of help do you need?" Sam called again; texting a message to Dean at the same time.

"I need you to kill me."

"What?" Sam shouted. Who the hell came to someone's motel room and asked to be killed? "Listen man, I'm not killing you."

"But I heard that you and your brother are the best at it."

Sam stilled like a Roman statue. "iWhat/i did you say?"

"Sam, please," the man pleaded in a desolate voice. "I hate to rush you but I need you to kill me. Now. I need you to make the pain end."

"Why?" he asked in a cautious voice.

"Why kill me or why do I want to die?" Edward snorted.

"Both," Sam replied while he raised his gun at the door. At the wrong word he was ready to pull the trigger. But he just wasn't sure what this Edward 'was' but he was making a mental list of possibilities.

Edward let out a melancholy sigh. "The love of my life – the one I foolishly left – has killed herself. She jumped off of a cliff. And now I want to join her."

"And I should be the one to do it because…?"

"Sam Winchester, rumor goes that you and your brother Dean have murdered many of my kind; well of the lesser versions of my species, and that is why I need you. You and your Colt."

Figuring that anything that said only the Colt could kill it could easily walk in regardless of a locked door, Sam threw the door open – although he texted Dean first just in case things didn't work out. At least then his brother would have a head's up. Sam's eyes widened as he took in the man – or teenager? – and observed his white skin that sparkled in the sunlight.

"Vampire," he whispered. His eyes met Edward's for a brief moment and he noticed that they were a pale glowing brown. "Now I remember. Bobby told me stories about the so-called 'super' vampires that are pretty much impossible to kill. You're part of the Colombia Valley family."

Edward nodded. "Yes." His eyes glanced at the gun in Sam's hands. "That's not the Colt."

"No, it's not." Sam felt very uneasy about a vampire asking him to murder him – it felt almost wrong in a Dr. Kevorkian way. "I heard you and your family didn't eat humans."

"Yes, that is true. Please, after you kill me today do not go after them. They are good," Edward stated in a calm matter.

Sam's brows furrowed in confusion. "Wait, okay, so you don't drink from humans but you want me to kill you?"

Before he could blink, Edward was in front of him. His eyes were crazed and his jaw was clenched as he grabbed a hold of Sam's shirt. "Dammit Sam! I was told you killed my kind for a living! I must die and I know of no other way than a Colt bullet in my brain!"

Knowing that he wasn't in danger and even if he was this vampire moved way quicker than anything he had ever seen, Sam just gazed at the vampire calmly. "You're willing to give up your life all because your girlfriend committed suicide?" he asked thoughtfully.

Edward let out an anguished cry and punched the wall; sending bits of plaster flying over the room. "It's my fault she did it! Because I left her!" he screamed.

Turning towards Sam, he held his hands up in a pleading gesture as his eyes swirled with pure emotion. "God dammit, Sam. Don't make this hard. I'm evil and you kill evil. Please, just end it. Please."

Sam felt conflicted. On one hand he did kill evil demons but this Edward guy didn't seem evil. Emo, maybe, but not evil.

Edward let out a snort of laughter. "Emo but not evil? Really Sam, just stop pondering the morality of this situation and just consider me another tally mark on your kill chart."

Taking a step back in surprise, Sam wondered how Edward knew what he was thinking. A psychic vampire? That's crazy!

"I'm not psychic, actually. But I can read minds," he said with a slight smirk. "I know everything you're thinking, Sam. And right now you are thinking that maybe you should kill me – because a mind reading vampire is extremely dangerous. You're right, you know. After all, what if you don't kill me and I go mad with grief; killing every person and child in my path?"

Sam hesitated. "Will you do that?" he inquired seriously; still torn on what was the right thing to do.

"Will you kill me? See Sam, we both have questions and we both need answers. But I think the only real answer is going to result from a Colt bullet."

His cell began ringing and Sam debated on answering it. The tension was so thick in the room that Sam had begun sweating. With a quick movement he picked up his phone and frowned at the unfamiliar number.

"878-555-4321?" Edward asked in surprise; the vampire must have read his mind as he looked at his phone. "Don't answer it!"

Sam gave Edward a wry smile. "So says the crazy suicidal vampire." Flipping the phone open he said "Hello?"

"Sam! Oh thank god my vision got it right. Listen, you're with my brother Edward, right?" Sam didn't even get a chance to confirm before she began talking again. "Listen, he wants you to kill him, but don't do it! He thinks Bella died but she's alive! The—"

Abruptly Edward rushed over and yanked the phone out of his hand. "Don't lie to me," he said angrily.

"Edward?" a soft feminine voice asked over the phone – luckily his volume was set high. "Edward, it really is me, okay? Don't do anything stupid on account of you feeling guilty!"

"Guilty?" Edward said in shock. "My god Bella, I wanted to die because I can't live without you! I love you," he said in a soft voice.

"Oh, Edward, I love you too!"

"I'll be back in Forks soon. Until then," he sighed.

"Until then."

Edward shut the phone and tossed it onto Sam's bed in a daze as he laughed softly. "Who would have thought? I thought she was dead," he said in a hushed voice.

"Well, guess it was good I didn't kill you, huh?" Sam grinned; relieved that he wouldn't have to make such a hard decision.

"Thank you, Sam Winchester. You are a good man," Edward told him as he pulled him into an impulsive hug. "Thank you."

Surprised by the vampire hugging him – Sam assumed knowing your girlfriend was actually alive must put people in a good mood – Sam nodded. "You're welcome."

"Get away from my brother, you demonic bastard!" yelled Dean in an authoritative voice.

Edward jumped back from Sam but just as quickly Dean fired the Colt. A bullet streamed through the air and hit Edward Cullen right between the eyes. With a dazed look on his face, the vampire toppled backwards onto the bed; blood issuing from his wound and trickling onto the blue bedspread.

"God, Sammy. I'm glad I got your texts. You alright? What was that thing?" he heard Dean say as he gazed remorsefully at Edward Cullen's still body.

Then his phone rang; and the number was 878-555-4321.

A/N:

Ooh, a bit darker than previous… I know lots of people would like Edward to die so may like this just for that. But I was interested in Edward going to the Winchester's to die – I mean, the Volturi got nothing on them ;)

Please let me know what you think!


	6. Eyes on Fire Dean WinchesterLuna Love

"**Eyes on Fire" Luna/Dean**

A/N:

Luna is the current obsession of my muse for some reason…all I can think about when I write Willow's Thief is the spin-off story that I want to write involving her, Spike, Dru, and the Winchesters. But I can't start that until WT is done and thus came this tale!

bCrossover:/b Supernatural/Harry Potter

bAuthor Notes:/b Musie's got a Luna obsession…

bDISCLAIMERS:/b I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does. I do not own Supernatural, Kripke and Co do. Also, the location mentioned is a real place that I Google-mapped and can be found a href=".?id=41 " here /a

bSummary/b: Dean is looking for a ghost…but finds something more.

bPairing:/b Dean/Luna

bSong:/b a href=".com/watch?v=iBhH1x543tM&ob=av2n" "Eyes on Fire" /a by Blue Foundation; off the Twilight Soundtrack

a href="." The story can be found here /a

Sam and Dean Winchester never quite understood the word 'vacation' – it was a foreign concept to them.

A week ago they had received a call from an old friend of their father's who was dealing with a demon possession involving his daughter in Basingstroke, England. The man knew that the sons of John Winchester must surely be able to assist, and he fervently begged them to fly out to save his first-born. The wealthy father immediately offered to procure plane tickets and lodging for them, and they saw no reason to say no.

Well, besides the food, of course. Dean was not a happy camper in that department.

But besides the cuisine, the trip had been well worth it and they had successfully exorcised the demon out of the man's daughter. Because their plane home did not depart for another week, Sam and Dean decided to go hunting in jolly old England – curious, in part, to hear a beast from hell speak with a pansy accent.

And thus began their 'vacation'.

Two days into the trip Sam and Dean had heard about a rumored haunting at Lansdown Cemetery, just off of Route A4 and close to Bath. The story went that a white-haired ghostly woman haunted the cemetery during each new moon phase every June for the last twenty years. Some say that the woman danced on the graves while others said that ghostly wails of mourning could be heard throughout the night. Some, even, went so far as to say that there was witchcraft involved because they saw floating lights.

Not having a lot of luck demon hunting, Sam convinced Dean to drive to the cemetery and lay that spirit to rest; since it was the first night of the new moon he thought that it was a good sign.

Dean, however, really didn't give a damn about signs. He had six months until he was being taken to hell and, to him; life was pretty cut and dried. There were no signs – people lived and people died. End of fucking story.

They waited in their rented vehicle – a ipoor/i substitute for the Impala – for a couple hours outside the cemetery until they saw a woman suddenly appear inside the gates of the cemetery.

"Shit, looks like this isn't some old wives tale, Sammy," Dean muttered in surprise as he grabbed his shotgun full of rock salt.

"Yeah she just came out of nowhere," Sam commented as they watched the woman meander slowly down a winding path.

A small orb of light shone distinctly in the darkness – was it a flashlight? – in front of the woman who had pale, unblemished skin and long white hair that hung in limp waves down her back. She wore a simply white gown that skirted the grass that she almost seemed to be floating over.

Like silent predators, the brothers escaped the car and maneuvered into the cemetery. They watched as the woman reached a small gravestone and knelt before it. She spoke for a moment and then began to dance in circles around the grave. Her bare feet would flash white underneath her dress as her legs extended in graceful movements. Lithe arms would extend above her head and then circled as she spun in small circles before leaping once more into the chilled night sky.

For a moment all Dean could do was stare at her. The ghost radiated passion and…life. He had never seen anything like it. She was giving herself completely to the world as she danced and spun, all the while occasionally releasing small bouts of delighted laughter.

He had to admit, this ghost was kind of hot.

"So what do we do? How should we approach her?" Sam asked; breaking Dean out of his trance.

"Uh." Dean had to shake his eyes away from the petite figure. "I guess we double check that that is her grave and then salt the bones."

But Dean's question as to the owner of that grave was answered when the woman landed at the foot of the grave with a sudden gasp of air and sobs were ripped from her throat.

"Oh mother, it's been twenty years since you left this world," she finally said after catching her breath. "I miss you so much." She sighed as she placed an open palm over the earth. "I remembered how much you enjoyed my dancing when I was young…I hope my performance pleased you."

She giggled lightly. "I danced at Ginny and Draco's wedding last night. It was a lovely affair, mother, you would have enjoyed it. Oh, the music was lovely!" she exclaimed softly. "As a peace offering to Draco, Mr. Malfoy hired the Weird Sisters to play just because they're Ginny's favorite band!"

From a small purse – a purse that was imuch/i too small to hold such a thing – the girl pulled out a large bouquet of white roses. As she set them on the grave a sharp gasp was released from her throat as a thorn caught her thumb. In the dim light Dean could see a drop of blood fall onto her white dress as she made a small noise of pain.

"Looks like she's not a ghost," Sam commented with an almost disappointed voice.

"Yeah, guess not," Dean muttered as he started to follow Sam out of the cemetery. He was slightly confused as to why, but Dean was relieved that the girl was alive. There was something about her – she seemed so free that he couldn't imagine anything managing to hold her spirit. He turned to look at her to see if she had chosen to continue dancing, and caught large, unblinking eyes staring back at him. For a moment he stood transfixed and neither of them moved until finally Sam hit his shoulder.

"Dean!" he reprimanded in a hushed voice. "Let's not disturb the poor girl, c'mon."

Startled, Dean nodded at Sam. He took one look back, however, and the girl had vanished from his sight.

The next morning Dean woke up after a night of strange dreams filled with the cute chick he had seen last night. Realizing that was probably because he hadn't been laid in forever – about ten days at this point – he didn't think much of it. That was why he was extremely surprised when it came time to check out and the friendly inn owner presented him with a small carved wooden box.

"What's this?" Dean asked in a perplexed voice, wondering if the Brits really were so stiff upper-crust that instead of gift bags they had ornately carved boxes.

"Oh, a delightful young woman left this for you, m'dear. She said that you really needed to have this."

Dean gave her a wary look. "What'd she look like?"

The buxom woman let out a hearty stream of laughter. "Oh, she was the most adorable thing! Big blue eyes, long blond – almost white – hair, and she was just a small 'lil thing."

Cemetery Girl.

Dean nodded. "Thanks, Ma'am."

Once he was outside and Sam was busy loading up the car, Dean took that moment alone to open his box. Don't ask him why he wanted to do it away from Sam but he didn't want to share anything that had to do with iher/i with his brother yet.

Inside the box a small roll of parchment was laid over a smooth rock. "She gave me a irock/i?" he asked aloud in confusion and slight outrage. After all, this wasn't the acid-trippin' 1970s anymore – people just didn't give pet rocks.

Unfurling the parchment, he began reading the delicate cursive with interest.

i

Good morning Dean,

After I saw you last I had horrifying vision. I know you face and marvel at your brave demeanor. Luckily, my vision also gave me hope that there was a chance for you. I traveled to the Forbidden Forest and found this deeply embedded in the earth from a battle long ago. I am sure my vision led me there for a reason…and that this stone is the one I have heard of that possesses amazing properties. Please keep it with you at all times, but especially when the hounds come for you. It will protect you.

Be safe.

/i

Not that the entire note was…what? Odd? Troubling? Hopeful? …but it was not signed with a name but only what looked like a crescent moon shape.

Dean silently chewed his lip as he read over the letter twice more, wondering if he could trust the woman and this rock that she gave him. Yet…something in her eyes last night made him think that maybe he could.

Maybe he was finally losing his mind or maybe he was just that desperate to live…but Dean decided to trust the ghost-like girl.

Months later, when the hounds came, he still had that stone in his pocket.

And man, did Hell get a helluva surprise.

A/N:

Please review! I have this weird idea for a Luna/Dean pairing – I have no idea where it came from – and I've barely written any Supernatural… Did you like this concept? These two people at some point together?

Holler!

**In case you haven't read HP7, that was the Resurrection Stone that Luna's vision led her to.


	7. Brothers in Blood: SherlockHolmesSpike

**Crossover: **Sherlock Holmes/BTVS  
**Author Notes: **Sherlock Holmes/Spike pairing.  
**DISCLAIMERS: **I do not own these characters and I am just having fun with them. Whedon & Fox own Spike and Sherlock Holmes is a bloody classic so if can't realize that I didn't create it then you need to go back to middle school English class.  
**Summary: **Sherlock's on a new case…and it deals with his Watson.  
**Shuffle Song: **"Creatures (for a While)" by 311 (rather fitting, considering that 311 is stoner music and the movie version of Sherlock is practically perpetually stoned ;)

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"And you say you passed them in the alley at what time?" Sherlock Holmes asked in a clipped voice. His eyes raked over the curvaceous barmaid and known 'unsavory' woman named Elizabeth Evans. A fringe of dark brown curls framed her round, pensive face and as she brought an index finger to tap against her chin he noticed that a sleek emerald ring glinted faintly in the candlelight. No doubt it was a gift from one of her wealthier clientele, which meant that Miss Evans had a career outside of being a barmaid.

"Aye, 'twasn't too late in the evenin'. Prayhaps about ten o'clock, shortly before the bells rung in the city square," she answered under heavy-lidded eyes that flickered towards him with flirtatious intent.

Sherlock did not reciprocate her advances and instead drummed his fingertips in agitation on the worn wooden table. "So at ten o'clock you saw him engage in a salacious manner with a raven-haired beauty in the street before she literally picked him up, cradled him like a newborn babe, and streaked away into the night?" he surmised in a brooding tone, more so saying it out loud as he processed the unlikely scenario than asking for her confirmation.

"Yes sir. She was as thin as a wraith but strong as an ox, that one," Miss Evans verified with a sharp nod.

"Indeed." Sherlock tipped his hat to the woman. "Thank you Miss Evans, your words have been helpful."

"Oh, anytime Mr. Holmes," she said with a salacious leer that had no chance of affecting him at the moment. For as long as his Watson was missing, Sherlock had nothing else on his mind but locating his closest friend.

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Three days and four nights had passed since the disappearance of Watson, and Sherlock was drinking gin straight out of the bottle as he processed the facts of the case. Lounging in his room with their dog at their side, he mentally ticked off what he had discovered thus far in his investigation.

_One_: Doctor John Watson had been at a party on Regency Street where he left at nine-thirty in the evening.

_Two_: Watson was last seen around ten o'clock in the arms of a "raven-haired beauty" where he consorted in a public display of affection and then was carried off in her arms. Even more unsettling was that no one recognized this woman and Sherlock knew that the propriety of his friend would never allow for strange canoodlings in the street with a random woman.

_Three_: There had been a dozen strange disappearances or murders in the last two weeks. Of those, half had been found drained of blood with their throat slashed with what appeared to be a sharp blade. Yet, on at least one body Sherlock had observed two small puncture wounds that had also been set in the neck before a knife blow made them almost impossible to notice.

_Four_: These violent disturbances are eerily similar to reports from several months ago to towns in Ireland and a year ago to a similar spree that occurred in the north of Spain.

_Five_: There was no trace of evidence leading to the identities of any of the killers and he, Sherlock Holmes, was stumped.

This led Sherlock to theorize that his dear Watson may have been taken by the same lethal criminals who had been behind the other killings in the city. Now what he needed to do was find these criminals – and hopefully find Watson there.

He stalked over to the map of London on the wall and peered at the pins he had stuck to mark the locations of the disappearances and murders. They were scattered across the city and he could deduct no possible connection between them. Hmm. Cocking his head to the side he stared at the dots until his eyes blurred.

Indeed, the times of the crimes also made no sense. Some occurred shortly after the sun set and others at random intervals throughout the night. It was to be noted that all the crimes occurred at night, yet it was not too unusual for such crimes to occur under the cover of darkness.

Although…Hmmm…As his mind thought of the times of the murders he did start to perceive a pattern…All crimes that occurred shortly after sunset were clustered together on the outside of town near Shoreditch. That led him to immediately conclude that the perpetrators must be residing near there; for they appeared too impatient to wait long to commit their heinous acts upon sunset.

Clucking his tongue, he glanced at the clock. It was only early evening and still hours to go until sunset. If he could discover their hiding place beforehand then lives could be saved – and hopefully Watson's would be one of them.

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After talking to dozens people in the streets about the strange disturbances, Sherlock finally got a hit.

"If you want to know about strange people, sir, you best ask my neighbors," the wiry youth with spectacles opined. "In the last month since they've moved her, my mum and I have only seen them at night."

"At night?" Sherlock inquired with interest. "And are they new neighbors, lad?"

"Aye, sir. A man and two women. They live in the flat across from ours."

Interesting. Very interesting. Quickly Sherlock obtained the address from the boy and went in march of his new destination.

The building looked like any other – an older, dilapidated building but it was well-constructed – but that was to be expected. Clearly these people were attempting to stay inconspicuous and this certainly was a prime location. As he marched into the brick building he pondered what to do once he got there. Clearly Watson was a priority and any more time wasted to find the inept local police could be wasteful. Already, his travels and research had prolonged his desired arrival time, for the sun had set not five minutes ago.

Taking a deep breath and fingering his revolver in his pocket, Sherlock knocked on the door. He heard a high pitched giggle that made him think of a child and the door opened to showcase a broad-shouldered man with long shaggy hair and a sardonic smile.

The man glanced back into the room and let out a low chuckle. "Now this is what I like about the homeland," he said in an Irish brogue. "The English are so damn well-mannered that they even deliver!"

The laughter of two women could be heard further in and then the man turned back to him with an inviting smile. "Aye, come in now lad, what's your name?"

Sherlock's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise. Lad? He was slightly older than this man, who looked to be in his mid-twenties, and he was certainly no lad. "My name is Sherlock Holmes and I'm here looking for a man who disappeared several nights ago. His name is Doctor John Watson."

The man gave him an arrogant smile before extending his hand. "Aye, is that right? My name's Angelus and I might be able to tell you a helpful tidbit or two."

Sherlock analyzed the man's facial expression and knew immediately that this man was involved with Watson's disappearance. Now the question was, did he proceed or secure back-up?

Unfortunately, that decision was not his to make. Without warning Angelus grabbed his hand and yanked Sherlock into the flat. His head struck the floor with a hard thud and he had to take a moment to catch his bearings before he stood up to survey the three occupants in the room.

"A helpful tidbit or two? Indeed," he said in a calm voice. "I imagine you lot can tell me quite a bit about my friend."

"Oh, more than you know," came the same girl-like giggle that he had heard earlier. Fixing his eyes upon her, he saw that this woman had an elongated pale face and lustrous black hair that hung freely over her shoulders. Next to her was a blond she-devil who was gazing at him hungrily like he was a plate of food and licking her lips like she hadn't eaten all day.

"Where is Watson?" he asked in a clipped, uncaring voice; he knew that showcasing emotion in front of such wanton vicious criminals would only further cause them to do something cruel. Besides which, he wasn't an outwardly emotional person much at all.

"Oooh!" the dark-haired one squealed. "I like him. All logic and bravery. He reorders the stars and discovers their meanings!" she swooned against her lady companion.

"Drusilla, please calm yourself," the blond sighed in a bored tone. "You already have one new child, you can't have another."

"Oooh, but I want him! They're like a set of diamonds in a ring and I am the emerald to which they'll cling!" Drusilla smiled beautifully at him as she clasped her hands over her heart.

"Darla's right, Dru. One playmate is enough, anymore and it'll be harder to hide," Angelus said as he leaned casually against the door.

"You're just saying that because you want more women than men," Darla said in an amused, dry tone as she raised a significant brow.

"Bad daddy," Drusilla growled. "I want the whole set."

Sherlock was quickly realizing that these three people were insane. Yet, if the woman's mad mumblings could be deciphered, then apparently his Watson was still alive. Now he just needed to figure out a way to find the man. Perhaps he was inside a spare bedroom or even a closet? Yet, how would he be able to search without these three stopping him? The witness said that this Drusilla woman was very strong and Angelus' grip was already beginning to leave a bruise that would last for days.

A shuffling sound could be heard behind him and Sherlock whirled around to put his back against the wall. There, looking pale but still evidentially alive, was Watson!

"Watson! Dear God, man, are you alright?" Sherlock exclaimed in relief.

Watson's eyes widened in recognition as he approached Sherlock and gave the man a tight, brotherly hug. "Holmes, I should have known you'd find me," Watson smiled cheerfully as he, it seemed, inhaled Sherlock's scent. Pulling away, Watson glanced at Drusilla and grinned. "What did I tell you, luv? Is he not the smartest bloke you've ever met?"

Drusilla let out a stream of bubbly laughter and cradled her jaw with her hands. "Oh, he is marvelous, my darling. I want to keep him, but mean daddy says no."

Daddy? Sherlock was perplexed why this young woman kept calling the other man 'daddy' for there was not a significant age difference that he could have made Angelus her father.

"Oh, come now Angelus! Live it up every once in a while. Trust me, Holmes is brilliant and sneaky enough that no one could catch him, unlike the tracks that you've been laying in your massacre," Watson said scornfully.

"So he _is_ the murderer that everyone is looking for," Sherlock said in a low matter-of-fact voice. "Watson, come. We must get you out of here." He glanced at his long-time friend. "You aren't looking well…What did they do to you?"

"Aren't looking well?" Watson scoffed in annoyance. "I feeling fucking fantastic, Holmes!"

Sherlock was taken aback – Watson never spoke like that! It was almost like he was a different person. Not only were his features pallid but it appeared that these fiends had put Watson under some type of mind control.

"Is he really as good as they say?" Angelus sighed as he gave Watson a pointed look.

"Oh, even better mate," Watson smiled victoriously.

Angelus gave Sherlock a hard, assessing look until he finally nodded. "Fine," he sighed with a hand gesture. "But yer'll be responsible for 'im."

Drusilla let out a cheer before she hugged Darla, then Angelus, and then Watson until finally skipping over to him. She gave Sherlock a hearty kiss on the mouth that left him sputtering in shock.

"Madam, do control yourself!" Sherlock admonished her.

She just gave him a coy smile and tapped the tip of his nose. "Oh, my new boy is rather uptight, isn't he? I just can't wait to unwrap him and see what's inside," she whispered gleefully.

"No thank you, madam. There shall be no unwrapping tonight," Sherlock sharply informed her as he grabbed Watson's arm. "Come now Watson, we must be going." Indeed, there was something about the woman; about all of them…even Watson…that was beginning to scare Sherlock. He couldn't place his finger upon it, but something was unnatural with these people. He only hoped that if he took Watson now his friend would heal from his time with these people unaffected.

In a movement too fast to see, Drusilla grabbed the hand that was gripping Watson, pulled it away, and lightly smacked it. "Grr, naughty dog," she growled playfully as her brown eyes gave him a burning stare. "You can't leave before your present, or all the dollies will cry. Be a good pup and stay here."

Ye gods, this woman was truly mad. "Perhaps you can send me that present by mail? I really must get going." He tried to edge away but she grabbed the sides of his head and rubbed her cheek against his as she purred lightly.

"Mmm, you smell like gin and sin," she said in a sing-song voice as he stood rock-still. She wasn't holding him tight enough to hurt but he felt a deep strength in her grip on him.

She rubbed her nose lightly against his. "Do you want me to be your mummy, little one? I promise to be a good mummy. We will be a nice little family, we will, and you can be with your dear Watson until the stars fall."

"I have a mother, thank you," he said stiffly as he began to wonder if he should get his gun. But these people moved much faster than him and he didn't want to kill unless he had to.

Drusilla gasped and her expression crumbled as she began to cry and let out a wailing moan. Watson rushed to her side and held her against his breast. "Hush now, beloved he didn't mean it. Poor Holmes just doesn't understand. His life is made of logic; you are an unknown entity to him."

Well, _that_ was certainly true. He certainly didn't understand this woman and he most certainly did not understand why his Watson was holding her like a protective husband!

Drusilla sniffed twice before turning back to him. "You are right." She gave Sherlock a penetrating stare and her lips curled into a smile. "It is elementary, my dear Watson – now I see it."

"See what, ducky?" Watson asked her in amusement.

Drusilla blinked owlishly at Sherlock. "He has a mummy…but never a daddy…I can see it. He died long ago from a wicked disease that ate up his insides. And he has a brother that was born to him, yet he sees another man as his brother."

She grabbed each of their hands and pressed their palms together. "Yes, dearest, I see it now. It is not in my power to be his sire; the stars declare that you'll lend him your fire."

"Really, luv? Me?" Watson asked in surprise as Sherlock tried to catch his eye and get his friend to run away with him.

Drusilla giggled. "Oh yes. Brothers not in blood, but in bond is what you were…but tonight you shall overcome that barrier and be joined as fate would have you."

"Watson!" Sherlock said with a raised voice, his adrenaline screaming at him that something was _very wrong_ with this situation. "We are leaving, now!"

"Sorry, my dear Holmes. You'll understand it all very soon," Watson said as he pulled Sherlock against his chest. "This will only hurt a little bit," his friend murmured in a loving voice as his lips brushed Sherlock's neck.

Then Holmes heard an unearthly sound like bones shifting in his friend's face and he kneed Watson in the gut and leapt back. Watson stood up and Holmes stopped in shock as he saw that there was something wrong with Watson's face. Hard ridges covered his forehead and sharp fangs glistened in the dim candlelight.

"Dear God, Watson! What have these people done to you?" Holmes shouted as he whipped out his revolver to aim it at his friend in fear.

"I'm a new man, Holmes! The man I was meant to be! Don't you see? Become like me and you can discover all the mysteries of the world – until the end of time." Watson grinned at him.

Holmes stumbled back. "You are…a monster!" he gasped in a sad voice, for it appeared that there was no way to save his dearest friend. Behind Watson, he saw the other three watching with amused interest.

Looking thoughtful for a moment, Watson shrugged with a smile. "I do suppose so, but it is loads of fun. Now come on, Holmes," he scoffed as he pointed to the gun. "Do put that down or someone will get hurt."

Watson started to advance and Holmes aimed the gun as he backed towards the door. "Stay away, Watson! Or I swear I will shoot!" he declared in a loud, fearful voice that trembled slightly at the end.

Pausing, Watson gave him a searing gaze. "No," he concluded with a shake of his head. "I know you all too well. You love me, Holmes. You can't hurt me."

With a quick movement Watson rushed towards him and, dammit all to hell, he was right.

Sherlock just couldn't shoot his dear Watson.

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A/N:  
Obviously, Watson eventually adopts the nickname 'Spike' and they are the same person in this story.  
…I'm kinda thinking that this would be a fun verse to explore…anyone else interested?

So…thoughts? Likey or dislikey?

Thank you for reading! :-)


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